Part 26 (1/2)
In those days, France was still looked upon as the first military power in Europe. Her soldiers were probably not superior to those who fell in the Franco-German war, but their prestige had not been questioned. They were also more sightly than the ill-clad legions of the Third Republic, so the review was a very splendid affair. At its termination, her Majesty repaired to the Invalides, to the tomb of Napoleon, which, though it had been begun, as I have incidentally stated, under the premiers.h.i.+p of M. Guizot in 1846-47, was not finished then, and only officially inaugurated nearly six years afterwards.
My ticket for the review had been given to me by Marshal Vaillant, the minister for war, and the only Marshal of the Second Empire with whom I was, at that time, intimately acquainted; though I became on very friendly terms with Marshals MacMahon and Lebrun subsequently.
I will devote, by-and-by, a few notes to this most original soldier-figure--he was only a type in some respects; meanwhile, I may mention here an anecdote, in connection with this visit of the Queen, characteristic of the man. The governor of the Invalides was the late King of Westphalia, Jerome Bonaparte. It was but natural that he should have been chosen as the custodian of his brother's last resting-place.
It was equally natural that he should feel reluctant to meet at that tomb the sovereign of a country which, he considered, had tortured that brother to death. Consequently the last survivor of the elder Bonapartes, the one who had also fought at Waterloo, foreseeing, as it were, this pilgrimage on the part of her Majesty, had, a fortnight or so before the date of her intended visit, gone to Havre, whither he had been ordered by his doctor on account of his health, and whence he only returned when the Queen of England had left France.
The deputy-governor of the Invalides was, perhaps, not considered sufficiently important to do the honours to so ill.u.s.trious a visitor, and Marshal Vaillant was sounded whether he would undertake the functions. He declined. ”Je n'ai pas l'honneur, sire,” he said, ”d'appartenir a votre ill.u.s.tre famille et personne sauf la famille d'un grand homme a le droit d'oublier les souffrances que ses ennemis lui ont infligees.” He was an honest, upright soldier, abrupt and self-willed, but kindly withal, and plainly perceived the faults of Louis-Napoleon's policy and of his frequently misplaced generosity--above all, of his system of conciliating the sovereigns of Europe by fetes and entertainments. ”Quand l'autre leur donnait des fetes et des representations de theatre, c'etait chez eux, et pas chez nous, ils en payaient les frais.” More of him in a little while.
At the Queen's first visit to Versailles--the second took place on the Sat.u.r.day before she left--she had been deeply moved at the sight of the picture representing her welcome at Eu by Louis-Philippe, to which ceremony I alluded in one of my former notes. But even before this she had expressed a wish to see the ruins of the Chateau de Neuilly, and the commemorative chapel erected on the spot where the Duc d'Orleans met with his fatal accident. ”La femme qui est si fidele a ses vieilles amities au milieu des nouvelles, surtout quand il s'agit de dynasties rivales, comme en ce moment, et quand cette femme est une reine, cette femme est une amie bien precieuse,” said Jerome's son. Both the Emperor and the Empress found that their cousin had spoken truly.
Sat.u.r.day, the 25th, had been fixed for the fete at Versailles. In the morning, the Queen went to the palace of Saint-Germain, which no English sovereign had visited since James II. lived there. She returned to Saint-Cloud, and thence to the magnificent abode of Louis XIV., which she reached after dark--the Place d'Armes and the whole of the erstwhile royal residence being brilliantly illuminated.
The Imperial and Royal party entered by the Marble Court, in the centre of which the pedestal to the statue of Louis XIV. had been decorated with the rarest flowers. The magnificent marble staircase had, however, been laid with thick purple carpets, and the bal.u.s.trades almost disappeared beneath ma.s.ses of exotics; it was the first time, if I remember rightly, that I had seen mosses and ferns and foliage in such profusion. The Cent Gardes and the Guides de l'Imperatrice were on duty, the former on the staircase itself, the latter below, in the vestibule.
At the top, to the right and left, the private apartments of the Empress had been arranged, the Queen occupied those formerly belonging to Marie-Antoinette. I was enabled to see these a few days later; they were the most perfect specimens of the decorative art that flourished under Louis XVI. I have ever beheld. The boudoir was upholstered in light blue, festoons of roses running along the walls, and priceless Dresden groups distributed everywhere; the dressing-rooms were hung with pale green, with garlands upon garlands of violets. The toilet service was of Sevres, with medallions after Lancret and Watteau. The historical Salle de l'Oeil-de-Boeuf, which preceded her Majesty's apartments, had been transformed into a splendid reception-room for the use of the Imperial hosts and all their Royal guests, for there were one or two foreign princes besides, notably Prince Adalbert of Bavaria.
The ball was to take place in the famous Galerie des Glaces; the Empress herself had presided at its transformation, which had been inspired by a well-known print of ”Une Fete sous Louis Quinze.” More garlands of roses, but this time drooping from the ceiling and connecting the forty splendid l.u.s.tres, which, together with the candelabra on the walls, could not have contained less than three thousand wax candles. At each of the four angles of the vast apartment a small orchestra had been erected, but very high up, and surrounded by a network of gilt wire.
At the stroke of ten those wonderful gardens became all of a sudden ablaze with rockets and Chinese candles; it was the beginning of the fireworks, the princ.i.p.al piece of which represented Windsor Castle.
After this, the ball was opened by the Queen and the Emperor, the Empress and Prince Albert; but though the example had been given, there was very little dancing. I was a comparatively young man then, but I was too busy feasting my eyes with the marvellous toilettes to pay much heed to the seductive strains, which at other times would have set me tripping. I fancy this was the case with most of the guests.
On the Monday the Queen left for home.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Marshal Vaillant -- The beginning of our acquaintance -- His stories of the swashbucklers of the First Empire, and the beaux of the Restauration -- Rabelaisian, but clever -- Marshal Vaillant neither a swashbuckler nor a beau; hated both -- Never cherished the slightest illusions about the efficiency of the French army -- Acknowledged himself unable to effect the desired and necessary reforms -- To do that, a minister of war must become a fixture -- Why he stayed -- Careful of the public moneys, and of the Emperor's also -- Napoleon III.'s lavishness -- An instance of it -- Vaillant never dazzled by the grandeur of court entertainments -- Not dazzled by anything -- His hatred of wind-bags -- Prince de Canino -- Matutinal interviews -- Prince de Canino sends his seconds -- Vaillant declines the meeting, and gives his reason -- Vaillant abrupt at the best of times -- A freezing reception -- A comic interview -- Attempts to s.h.i.+rk military duty -- Tricks -- Mistakes -- A story in point -- More tricks -- Sham ailments: how the marshal dealt with them -- When the marshal was not in an amiable mood -- Another interview -- Vaillant's tactics -- ”D----d annoying to be wrong” -- The marshal fond of science -- A very interesting scientific phenomenon himself -- Science under the later Bourbons -- Suspicion of the soldiers of the Empire -- The priesthood and the police -- The most G.o.dless republic preferable to a continuance of their regime -- The marshal's dog, Brusca -- Her dislike to civilians -- Brusca's chast.i.ty -- Vaillant's objection to insufficiently prepaid letters -- His habit of missing the train, notwithstanding his precautions -- His objection to fuss and public honours.
About two or three days after the ball at Versailles, I went to see Marshal Vaillant at the War Office, to thank him for his kindness in sending me the ticket for the review. Our acquaintance was already then of a couple of years' standing. It had begun at Dr. Veron's, who lived, at the time, at the corner of the Rue de Rivoli and the Rue de Castiglione. The old soldier--he was over sixty then--had a very good memory, and used to tell me garrison stories, love-adventures of the handsome swashbucklers of the First Empire and of the beaux of the Restauration. The language was frequently that of Rabelais or Moliere, vigorous, to the point, calling a spade a spade, and, as such, not particularly adapted to these notes, but the narrator himself was neither a swashbuckler nor a beau; he hated the carpet-knight only one degree more than the sabreur, and when both were combined in the same man--not an unusual thing during the Second Empire, especially after the Crimean and Franco-Austrian wars--he simply loathed him. He fostered not the slightest illusions about the efficiency of the French army, albeit that, to an alien like myself and notwithstanding his friends.h.i.+p for me, he would veil his strictures. At the same time, he frankly acknowledged himself unable to effect the desired reforms. ”It wants, first of all, a younger and abler man than I am; secondly, he must become a fixture. No change of ministry, no political vicissitudes ought to affect him. I do not play a political role, and never mean to play one; and if I could find a man who would carry out the reforms at the War Office, or, rather, reorganize the whole as it should be reorganized, I would make room for him to-morrow. I know what you are going to say. I derive a very comfortable income from my various offices, and I am a pluralist. If I did not take the money, some one else would who has not got a sc.r.a.p more talent than I have. There is not a single man who dare tell the nation that its army is rotten to the core, that there is not a general who knows as much as a mere captain in the Austrian and Prussian armies; and if he had the courage to tell the nation, he would be hounded out of the country, his life would be made a burden to him. That is one of the reasons why I am staying, because I can do no good by going; on the contrary, I might do a good deal of harm. Because, as you see it, the three hundred and fifty thousand francs of my different appointments, I save them by looking after the money of the State. Not that I can do much, but I do what I can.”
That was very true: he was very careful of the public moneys, and of the resources of the Emperor also, entrusted to him by virtue of his position as Grand-Marechal du Palais; it was equally true that he could not do much. Napoleon was, by nature, lavish and soft-hearted; as a consequence, he became the b.u.t.t of every impostor who could get a letter conveyed to him. His civil list of over a million and a half sterling was never sufficient. He himself was simple enough in his tastes, but he knew that pomp and state were dear to the heart of Frenchmen, and he indulged them accordingly. But his charity was a personal matter. He could have no more done without it than without his eternal cigarette.
He called the latter ”safety-valve of the brain; the former the safety-valve of pride.” I remember an anecdote which was told to me by some one who was in his immediate entourage when he was only President.
It was on the eve of a journey to some provincial town, and at the termination of a cabinet council. While talking to some of his ministers, he took a couple of five-franc pieces from his waistcoat, and spun them English fas.h.i.+on. ”C'est tout ce qui me reste pour mon voyage de demain, messieurs,” he said, smiling. One of them, M. Ferdinand Barrot, saw that he was in earnest, and borrowed ten thousand francs, which the President found on his dressing-table when retiring for the night. Four and twenty hours after, Napoleon had not even his two five-franc pieces: they and M. Barrot's loan had disappeared in subscriptions to local charities. Among the papers found at the Tuileries after the Emperor's flight, there were over two thousand begging letters, all dated within a twelvemonth, and all marked with their answer in the corner--that is, with the amount sent in reply. That sum amounted to not less than sixty thousand francs. And be it remembered that these were the pet.i.tions the Emperor had not entrusted to his secretaries or ministers as coming within their domain. The words of Marshal Vaillant, spoken many years before, ”I cannot do much, but I do what I can,” are sufficiently explained.
On the day alluded to above, the marshal was seriously complaining of the Emperor's extravagance. He did not hold with entertaining so many sovereigns. ”I do not say this,” he added, ”with regard to yours, for her hospitality deserved such return as the Emperor gave her; but with regard to the others who will come, you may be sure, if we last long enough. Well, we'll see; perhaps you'll remember my words.”
In fact, the old soldier was never much dazzled by the grandeur of those entertainments, nor did he foster many illusions with regard to their true value in cementing international friends.h.i.+ps. The marshal was not dazzled by anything; and though deferential enough to the members of the emperor's family, he never scrupled to tell them his mind. The Emperor's cousin (Plon-Plon) could tell some curious stories to that effect. The marshal had a hatred of long-winded people, and especially of what Carlyle calls wind-bags. Another of Louis-Napoleon's cousins came decidedly under the latter description: I allude to the Prince de Canino. In order to get rid as much as possible of wordy visitors, Vaillant had hit upon the method of granting them their interviews at a _very_, _very_ early hour in the morning; in the summer at 6.30 in the morning, in the winter at 7.15. ”People do not like getting out of bed at that time, unless they have something serious to communicate,” he said; and would not relax his rule, even for the softer s.e.x. The old warrior, who had probably been an early riser all his life, found the arrangement work so well, that he determined at last not to make any exceptions. ”I get the day to myself,” he laughed. Now, it so happened that the Prince de Canino asked him for an interview; and, as a matter of course, Vaillant appointed the usual hour. Next morning, to Vaillant's great surprise, instead of the Prince, came two of his friends. The latter came to ask satisfaction of Vaillant for having dared to disturb a personage of the Prince's importance at so early an hour. ”Mais je ne l'ai pas derange du tout: il n'avait qu'a ne pas venir, ce que du reste, il a fait,” said Vaillant; then he added, ”Mais, meme, si je consentais a donner raison au prince de mon offense imaginaire, je ne me battrai pas a quatre heures de l'apres-midi; donc, il aurait a se deranger; il vaut mieux qu'il reste dans son lit. Je vous salue, messieurs.” With which he bowed them out. When the Emperor heard of it, he laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and Napoleon did not laugh outright very often or easily.
There are a great many stories about this objection of Marshal Vaillant to be troubled for nothing; and, as usual, they overshoot the mark. He is supposed to have acted very cavalierly with highly placed personages, and even with ladies in very high society. Of course, I was never present at interviews of that kind, but during my long acquaintance with him, I was often seated at his side when less exalted visitors were admitted. At the best of times his manner was abrupt, though rarely rude, unless there was a reason for it, albeit that the outsider might fail to fathom it at the first blush. I remember being with him in his private room, somewhere about the sixties, when his attendant brought him a card.
”Show the gentleman in,” said Vaillant, after having looked at it.
_Enter_, a tall, well-dressed individual, the rosette of the Legion of Honour in his b.u.t.ton-hole, evidently a retired officer.
”What is it you want with me?” asked the marshal, who had remained seated with his back towards the visitor.
”Being in Paris for the Christmas and New Year's holidays, your excellency, I thought it my duty to pay my respects to you.”
”Is that all you want with me?” asked the marshal.